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Beneath the trees of the Casbah |
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Beneath the roots of those trees |
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On the casket floor |
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On the casket floor |
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Bottom of me, it feels so complete |
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Around my childhood museums |
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There stand Chinese guards |
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One of them has a bell |
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One of them has a bell |
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Who rings when I come too close or leave too far |
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You might say that it's reckless, you might say that it's wild |
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But I'd rather be nobody's man than somebody's child |
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Now there's splinters in my fingers |
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And there's Portland cement in my lungs |
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I got a hammer and a cough |
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I got a hammer and a cough and |
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All of my friends speak in foreign tongues |
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There's an ugliness growing up inside me |
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From where it has come I don't know |
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I left my sweetness beside |
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My sweetness beside |
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That girl I goodbyed long ago |
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They might find my body at the bottom of the pile |
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But I'd rather be nobody's man than somebody's child |
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Such plans they have, such gods they have |
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Deep in this nation of heat |
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We've been outdone again |
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We've been outdone again and |
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All of my friends they walk on their feet |
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And a congress of jackals will put a tax on my smile |
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But I'd rather be nobody's man than somebody's child |
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I might move to Las Vegas, live there for a while |
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'Cause I'd rather be nobody's, nobody's, nobody's |
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Yes I'd rather be nobody's man than somebody's child |